Todos os capítulos de My Billionaire's Ex Husband's Secret Heir: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 77

“Married,” she repeated.I didn’t answer.Noelle kept staring at me like maybe if she waited long enough, that one word would turn into something that made more sense. Ex. Dated. Slept together once in Milan after too much wine.Anything but married.“When were you married?” she asked.I leaned my hip against the credenza behind me. “A long time ago.”“Sasha.”I blinked.She took a small breath. “Please.”I didn’t want to make this worse for her. The problem was, there was no version of this conversation that actually made anything better.“Five years ago.” I said.Noelle’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes moved slightly, doing the math. “And then?”“I left Milan.”“When did you get divorced?”“Not long after. The lawyers handled it.”“You didn’t?”“I didn’t come back to stand in a courtroom wearing a sad outfit, if that’s what you mean.”“Was it ugly?”I looked away at the glass of water I still hadn’t touched. “It ended.”“That’s not what I asked.”“I know.”Noelle went quiet

By late afternoon, I was already home with my hair twisted into a messy bun, barefoot, and halfway through my third empanada at the kitchen island because Mama had a very Latin approach to family crises: cook enough food to make everyone in the house physically incapable of moving.Reagan and Noah had gone back to their respective caves that morning, which in Rivera-family language meant work, wives, kids, meetings, and all the other adult responsibilities they unfortunately couldn’t keep abandoning just because their little sister had a problematic ex-husband.Gamma was still here because, according to him, he was “working remotely.”According to me, he was using his laptop as decoration on the coffee table while watching something about motorcycles with the volume turned low.Papá sat outside on the terrace with his feet up on the ottoman, reading something on his tablet, while Gamma was half sprawled across the outdoor sofa wearing sunglasses even though the sun had dropped low eno

Twenty minutes later, Rowan Blackwood was sitting in the chair my son had apparently designated the special chair.I still had no idea what made it special.It was a perfectly normal dining chair on the left side of the table, identical to the other seven, except maybe because Max had stood on it that morning trying to reach the honey in the cabinet, and I’d threatened to sell the entire dining set if he didn’t get down.But after his shower, Max came downstairs with his black hair still damp, the bangs Gabriella had carefully combed into place already falling over his forehead again five minutes later, wearing a clean white T-shirt and navy shorts, and immediately pointed Rowan toward the chair.“You sit here.”Rowan pulled it out. “Any particular reason?”“Special chair.”“What makes it special?”Max paused. “Because I said so.”Rowan nodded like he’d just been given a perfectly reasonable structural explanation. “Fair enough.”Papá pulled out the chair at the head of the table whil

It was a little after eight when I walked Rowan toward the gate.Dinner had finally ended after Mama managed to give him dessert that she claimed was only “a little” and turned out to be one enormous slice of tres leches, Papá made Rowan save the direct number for the head of our family security, and Max spent the last fifteen minutes of his evening demonstrating Kevin’s new capabilities, which, upon closer investigation, turned out to be two pieces of translucent red Lego taped to his horns.Gabriella had already taken Max upstairs because he’d started yawning while continuing to deny he was tired, which was usually the final stage before he fell asleep somewhere completely unreasonable.The night air was cooler now. The ocean below was almost invisible except for the thin white lines where the waves broke, while the lights of Belladonna glowed softly through the trees on the hillside.Rowan walked beside me with both hands in his pants pockets, the tablet he’d brought earlier alread